


a small space

by trees_so_thin



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: 'awful tags' i say as if this i can even bring myself to write the word 'cock' et al, ANYWAY ive got nothing. just a little fun, AWFUL tags i have to admit to using, Biting, Edging, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, I guess!, M/M, Oh wait, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, also ig chaos fitzroy implied kinda but ill be real i just insert him a little into everything, as per usual, i forgot about that. whoops, is there anything i missed well i dont know i hate tagging things! bye, no 2000 word buildup this time yes im aware of my faults, wait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trees_so_thin/pseuds/trees_so_thin
Summary: look they fuck in a broom closet what more do you want from me i got a disease
Relationships: Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	a small space

**Author's Note:**

> im meant to be writing an essay this length not a broom closet fucking fic  
> "stop making argo sad" no

It’s dark in here, but Fitzroy's face glows.  
Not exactly the same kind of glow from some spells he uses and not the sickly light of his flesh underneath the scars caused by his magic but some kind of cousin to them, for sure. Argo doesn’t know, and he’s not about to get into semantics; he’s just glad for a little bit of light.  
Not that he’s confident enough to look anywhere but at Fitzroy's shoulder.  
The half elf’s voice is rough and low as he tries to stay quiet, escaping his mouth as short gasps syncing rhythmically with the movement of Argo’s hand. 

Oh god.

They sure were fucking in the broom closet.

“You could have waited literally ten minutes,” Argo hisses, mad that they're basically one floor away from their dorm room and yet they’re squeezed so close together in this tiny little space, fighting for a comfortable position against the clutter of mops and buckets and brooms and bleach.  
He’s had to brace his knee and other hand against the wall while his back is up against the other side, framing Fitzroy so he can get as far away from him as possible and get enough leverage on him. This closet sure isn't designed for two people to be in it at once, and it sure isn't designed for those two people to be giving each other handjobs in. Not that Fitzroy’s really holding up that end of the deal, but Argo can’t blame him; he’s glassy-eyed and sweaty, his head buried in Argo’s shoulder and fingernails digging hard into Argo's waist. Argo pays no mind to that, but he does think about how the death grip Fitzroy is offering is going to bruise him afterwards and that gets him a little hot. Not that he wants more permanent marks of Fitzroy on his person, but the temporary ones are okay.  
Especially if he can make Fitzroy embarrassed about it later.

“Be a bit more quiet,” Argo pleads as Fitzroy's groans get steadily louder, still constantly worried that someone would catch them. That would be utterly mortifying- sidekick that everyone passes over anyway becomes famous throughout the school for getting caught with his hand down his hotshot villain’s pants!- and not the best way to make yourself remembered.  
Fitzroy probably wouldn't like it, either.  
Fitzroy grunts and adjusts himself, kicking over a bunch of bottled chemicals in the process, then kicking them away like it didn't happen. “Argo, shut the fuck up shut up shut up shut up-”  
Argo takes the cue and goes a little bit faster- he’s fucked Fitzroy enough times to read the signs of when he’s getting close, and the tenseness in his shoulders and the breathless repeated words are a big one.  
Also, not something he usually notices because they’re not normally in total darkness like this, but his skin is glowing a little brighter.

Interesting. 

He waits a bit for Fitzroy's knees to buckle and his breathing to get harder before he stops completely and holds him there, making the half elf look up at him and giving him a shit-eating grin. Fitzroy looks pissed, but Argo relishes in it- it's fun to get one over on him like this, especially when it takes so goddamn long normally to get him this close- stretching it out is part of the fun for Argo when he can get it. Fitzroy basically just uses him for his own purposes all the time with pointed disregard for any feelings Argo holds, so surely it's okay for Argo to make his own fun every now and then?  
“I… hate you,” Fitzroy pants through gritted teeth, wiping sweat off his brow as his high begins to fade. “You did that deliberately- you- you _asshole.”_  
Argo lets Fitzroy go and leans back against the wall to take a breather, smug pride surging through him. “Yeah, I did. And you’re gonna just have t’ take it, huh, Fitz? Aren't ya?”

Fitzroy is mad. Extremely mad.  
“You can't just do that because you're annoyed that I didn't WAIT until we got home!”  
“Keep your bloody voice down. You’re not the boss of me.”  
“Argo-”  
Not prepared to let the barbarian keep ranting on, Argo pushes him up against his side of the closet and kisses him roughly for a good while, eliciting a gasp from Fitzroy that slowly turns into a collection of moans that ring through Argo and make him hot and bothered again.  
He picks Fitzroy back up and starts on him again and Fitzroy shudders, more sensitive after being brought so close once already; and his hips twitch forward, not for the first time. Argo keeps kissing him until Fitzroy can’t breathe, and time starts to pick up until Fitzroy can feel himself on the edge again. He tries to hold himself back from moving his own hand to guide Argo’s faster because he knows Argo hates that, but that’s all it would take- just a little bit more-  
“Argo- just- a little bit quicker, _please-”_

Argo slows down again.

Fitzroy bites back a scream- or more accurately, bites it into the side of Argo’s neck, no longer caring about how rough he is or if it hurt the rogue.  
“Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you let me _come!”_  
Argo doesn’t let the tension in his shoulders go even though he wants to- he’s enjoying working Fitzroy up, and he’s cute when he screams.  
“Shhhhhhh. You're so red in the face,” he remarks, feeling Fitzroy positively bristle at the statement. If he was an animal, he’d have his hackles raised for sure.  
“Why do you _think, Argo.”_ No concessions of begrudging friendliness this time around, no half smile dimpling the corner of his mouth. Fitzroy sounds genuinely angry this time, and Argo resolves to finish it this go round, if Fitzroy didn’t rip the rogue’s dick off for his misdemeanours first.  
“Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to fuck with you- I didn’t think you’d get angry-”  
“It’s fine, whatever. Just stop edging me and let me come this time.”

Less a request than a prophetic statement of fact, Argo thinks.

He closes his eyes, slips his other hand up under Fitzroy’s t-shirt to cup his chest (one breathy gasp from the half elf), and gently reaches down to wipe his already sticky hand on the inside of Fitzroy’s thigh (and another). Fitzroy doesn’t move, just looks up at the ceiling and waits to feel Argo move him again, flinching at the never-changing coolness of his hands, but remaining calm for as long as he can.  
It takes him far longer this time, more like it usually does, even though Argo is doing more- his nipple is so hard it hurts, and Argo isn’t helping that sensation- he’s still going slower, more deliberate, calculated.  
_I can’t believe he’s so annoyed about being stuck in here that he wants to LENGTHEN the time we spend in here.  
Oh. Maybe he’s trying to punish me for that.  
Maybe I deserved it._

Fitzroy gets caught up in his own thoughts for so long that he almost doesn’t notice himself about to come once again, but he hits the peak of the feeling and this time, finally, Argo carries him through it and Fitzroy lets out a loud, choking gasp, slapping his hand over his mouth a second too late to muffle it.  
“Fuck-- fuck. Oooookay.”  
Argo is panting hard too, leaning against Fitzroy, finally letting the tension go.  
“Well?”  
“Wh- ah. Okay. Well, thank you, I guess.”

A lazy grin finally cracks the frown Argo’s had for the past ten minutes, and he reaches to the side of him for a roll of paper towel. Sometimes a janitor’s closet can be convenient, hey.  
Fitzroy begrudgingly cleans himself up, slightly ashamed at the tantrum he threw in the heat of the moment, slightly guilty about not doing anything for Argo even though that was why he’d pushed the rogue into the closet in the first place; and dresses himself properly again with a sigh.  
Argo just idly squashes himself into a corner and tries not to watch- tries not to think about how he loves Fitzroy too much- too cloyingly sweet on the palate to consider directly after that- tries not to hold in his mind every inch of the barbarian and the way he moves under pressure.  
He’s still very hard, and has been through this- despite being able to not think about himself that whole time, now that Fitzroy’s winding down, Argo can come back to himself and finally notice his discomfort.  
Somehow, Fitzroy notices too, and gingerly manoeuvres himself to sit down between two buckets and an industrial bottle of detergent (as close as he can manage to get to Argo in the cramped space), then reaches past them to touch Argo’s hand. Argo sheepishly pulls it away- his fingers are still slightly wet and sticky from Fitzroy, and he’s embarrassed about that. Fitzroy sighs and hands him a sheet of the paper towel instead. 

“Sorry about fucking with you like that.”  
“No, it’s okay. Sorry for being a dick about it.” Fitzroy considers his nails for a moment, flicking chips of polish off his thumb with his index finger. “I was angry about it in the moment but it was kinda fun. Sorry if I hurt you.”  
Argo winces and rubs his neck- it hadn’t felt that bad at first, but Fitzroy had actually bitten quite deep, and it stung. “I’ll be fine. Anyway, 3 nuts for the price of one, basically, so you should be thanking me.”  
“That, my CCO, was an absolutely awful joke and not even factually correct because I only actually came once, as I think you’ll find if you actually checked the notes you take.”

That’s better. 

Argo smiles easily this time, although there’s still a nagging worry deep down that Fitzroy is annoyed with him for what he did.  
Never mind.  
Anyway.  
“So, uh. Are you….okay or would you like. Assistance.”  
_That’s_ not something Argo expected to hear, and it’s not something he’s quite sure he knows how to take, either. He’d certainly be more comfortable just leaving himself to it while Fitzroy goes home, but if he’s offering--  
“Nah, it’s- I’m okay. I’ll be fine. You can go, if you want.”  
He expected that answer, but Fitzroy is still slightly disappointed he doesn’t get the chance to redeem himself in whatever personal scorecard he’s holding.  
Oh well.  
“Alright, then. Have fun.”  
Fitzroy leaves the closet behind him, but not before stopping at the door to throw Argo one last shy (for him), wobbly smile, dimpled at the ends- the small smile he only ever gives Argo, even though Argo doesn’t realise it’s just for him.  
“Thanks.”

Then he’s gone, and Argo’s left alone with himself and his thoughts for one miserable, indiscernible handful of minutes.  
Good use of an afternoon, dipshit.


End file.
